


Burned

by Ysoi6x6yuri



Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bottom Vinsmoke Sanji, Denial of Feelings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Vinsmoke Sanji, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jealous Roronoa Zoro, Jealousy, M/M, Multi, Nightmares, Other, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape, Sibling Incest, Top Roronoa Zoro, Trauma, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:48:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21768643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ysoi6x6yuri/pseuds/Ysoi6x6yuri
Summary: I'm an italian girl. i'm Sorry if this book will be full of mistakes but... oh, well. I tried------------+++++-----+++++----------------------He felt it because it was impossible to ignore it.At times it was so obvious that that one side of his brain repeatedly asked him if others had already noticed it."No" he said to himself, finally succeeding in driving out that small carcinogenic drug that immediately ended up between his lips as the best food of all, following the dry gesture with the quick search for the lighter, whose flame soon came to help , although tossed a little by the sea air that even ruffled the flag of the beautiful and much loved Thousand Sunny."I don't think so" the blond continued in his interior monologue, taking carbon dioxide and letting it flood into his senses from the first to the last, in some ways bringing him relief, in other ways not
Relationships: Mugiwara Kaizoku | Strawhat Pirates & Vinsmoke Sanji, Roronoa Zoro/Vinsmoke Sanji, Vinsmoke Ichiji/Vinsmoke Niji/Vinsmoke Sanji/Vinsmoke Yonji, Vinsmoke Ichiji/Vinsmoke Sanji, Vinsmoke Niji/Vinsmoke Sanji, Vinsmoke Sanji & Everyone, Vinsmoke Sanji/Vinsmoke Yonji
Comments: 19
Kudos: 115





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so. As I said before, I'm Italian. I really don't know how much mistakes are in those chapters.  
> Actually, on wattpad I published like ten of them in my language and like seven in English.  
> No One really helped me to correct them (The English version has not so many readers ... ) So ... I really hope that this work Is not too much a disaster .

Sanji felt it.  
He felt it in every single fleck of his being, in every damn breath he took and threw out, while his hands were desperately trying to reach the pocket of his trousers to grab the packet of cigarettes.  
Yup.  
Sanji could feel it, even in his own blood, which proceeded in its usual rhythm.  
He felt it because it was impossible to ignore it.  
At times it was so obvious that one side of his brain repeatedly asked him if the others had already noticed it.  
"No" he said to himself, finally succeeding in driving out that small carcinogenic drug that immediately ended up between his lips as the best food of all, following the dry gesture with the quick search for the lighter, whose flame soon came to help , although tossed a little by the sea air that even ruffled the flag of the beautiful and much loved Thousand Sunny.  
"I don't think so" the blond continued in his interior monologue, taking carbon dioxide and letting it flood his senses from the first to the last, in some ways bringing him relief, in other ways not.

Generally he should have, generally smoking snatched away that nervousness, that hunger, that inner struggle that crushed him from within, weighing more than any boulder at his chest.  
"Maybe it seems obvious only to me," he concluded, narrowing his eyes and quickly recovering himself, then bringing his gaze to the horizon.  
The sky was cloudless and was painted in various shades of orange that sank into a slight red where the sun rose, so beautiful that it looked like a true color splashed on an infinite canvas, then accompanied by the blue shades of the sea , whose waves were going to crash against the walls of the ship, returning from the others only after being self-destroyed.  
A line of disappointment escaped him as he pushed himself harder against the woody surface, already in close contact with his skin, or more than anything else, with his clothes.

He needed to calm down, just because he knew ... As difficult as it was, one way was to find it.  
He wouldn't be allowed to worry someone in the crew about him, no.  
After the situation with Big Mom, after all that the captain and the others had done to save him, no, definitely he would no longer be allowed to be a source of bad temper for someone.  
And yet, it was precisely because of what had happened with his being with the Vinsmokes that caused his condition.  
He could not ignore it, nor drive it away, let alone diminish it in some way.  
It would have been too easy to take a new blank page, ripping off the events that had bent his life to those dark days.  
It would have been really too much easy to return the one who, in those thirteen years of freedom, had been the new Sanji, the Sanji who had licked his wounds one by one to heal them after having killed the so-called failure at sea, just as it was climbed on that boat shown to him by his sister Reiju.

Too. Much. Easy.  
If there was something he had learned in his twenty-one years of age, it was that nothing was ever easy, not for him at least, so why should he even have the illusion that this time ten, fifteen days were enough to delete everything and not be what then was now going back to become?  
No, as usual, he would only end up looking for a way out in his own way, he would go back to trying to heal himself, faking smiles, pretending he was still intact.  
Pretending that those voices, those words, those touches, those fingers, those chains, that pain, that blood, that remorse, that hatred, those bites, that moving so destructive, that shame were never there, that they didn't even accompany it for a second and that they didn't exile him from the rest of the group when everyone smiled and joked animatedly between them.  
Pretending that the mask was not there again, while the awareness of being burned ignited his mind even more than the cigarette that dwelt in his mouth, a cigarette of which there was now nothing but a useless remnant, ready to be thrown away, just like him.

Never really stopping his thinking, he moved from the side of the ship, slowly reaching the kitchen and lightly pressing the remaining piece against the ashtray, looking at the clean plates, lined up inside the cabinet, looking at the empty table, scanning the workstation and letting himself fall on a chair, his head thrown back, the celestial blue thrown on the ceiling, this before he heard footsteps in the direction of the door, which brought him back to his feet in a matter of scarce three seconds.  
And just a little later, in fact, in his visual field the bizarre and disorderly mop of Marimo made its way, which was coming towards him with a rather obvious request.

Sake. All kinds of alcohol. Anything that could drink that seaweed at such a time, in a nutshell.  
And to look normal, Sanji should have put up their usual little theater; the usual series of discussions that always ended with insults and never-serious fights that had previously always been their daily route.

But the cook didn't feel like it, not today ... Actually for more time than today ... And the sky could have fallen for this, probably, because the Sanji of thirteen years of freedom would never have thought even just to avoid one of the usual quarrels with the swordsman, his rival, his comrade in arms, indeed... He would have searched for him at all costs.  
He would look for him, as it was the only way he felt able to attract the other's attention.  
He would look for it, because after all they enjoyed insulting each other, challenging each other, pushing the other to do their best: it was their way of relating.

But this was not the Sanji of thirteen years of freedom.  
This was a 'him' who was even different from the failure.  
He was ... A him who would never have wanted to hear, because when he was burned what he was, the change seemed to be radically engraved on every slope of his mind and his skin, no longer imperfect only for fighting wounds, but filthy for the things given to him by a different type of war, a war he had lost at the time when he had been tied to the goddamned bed and repeatedly penetrated with animal violence by those who should have been his biological family, but who once again only monsters were shown.

And in those ten, fifteen days, he had dreamed of it almost every night, not even in some way something or someone hated him to such an extent that he wanted to send it to him again and again until the huge cracks and burning, the mental mark given him by those bastards, to take over completely over him and make him collapse like a house of cards.  
He had happened to wake up in full panic, with tears stuck between his eyelashes, his breath dying in his throat, his heart flapping, almost bleeding, against his rib cage with such violence that he seemed at times to be able to get out of it indeed, the mind that tried to cling to a pile of lucidity that allowed it to stand on its legs without falling to the ground once after getting off its bed to leave the room and take at least a little air, enough to don't let it suffocate for good.

<< Ohi, Cook >> the swordsman's voice drew the blond's attention, whose only visible eye ran along the longest and slowest street before reaching the metallic gray that already lingered on him with his usual serious and eloquent air that distinguished him.  
Sanji had a slight sigh, with a cold sweat running down his skin, not nullifying as he would have hoped, but giving him the usual feeling of anxiety, that anxiety that had been eating him for days and that made him feel like a hunted animal.  
<< What the hell do you want, you mossbrain? >>  
The answer was obvious, but he decided to ask it anyway, just as a ritual, so as to seem normal.  
Not so much to Zoro, but to himself.  
Needless to say, there was a totally opposite effect to what he wanted.

His voice, when it came out of his mouth, must have known fully about the bottoms while he scanned the last term ... But for the blonde it seemed almost distorted, annoying, scratched.  
There was no more taste in mocking if everything folded like this. It was definitelly not funny.  
<< Sake, curly >> was in fact the answer of the swordsman.  
Just like Sanji would have expected.  
Without saying anything, the boy quickly grabbed it from the pantry, sensing the other's gaze on his back until he turned back to him and held it out, preferring to sit in silence for a while and wait for the other to went to alcoholise himself somewhere else, possibly the furthest from the kitchen, so as not to have to force himself to speak again, perhaps ending up saying something he might regret.  
And when the swordsman finally came out, the cook was finally able to swallow his own saliva, which had stuck in his throat without even noticing it.


	2. Chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Nightmare. And a one-sided quarrel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Attention: explicit, scurrilous and rough terms. Rape. If you don't want to read, jump to the non-cursive part

_The_ _spasmodic_ _panting_ _was a bitter and definitive background of_ _what_ _was exactly happening_ _inside_ _that_ _room_ _._  
_Then,_ _there_ _was the_ _quiver_ _of his body_ _shaking,_ _but_ _that_ _made no_ _noise_ _._  
_Even his_ _lips_ _,_ _which_ _were_ _bleeding_ _beneath_ _his_ _teeth_ _,_ _sought_ _only_ _to_ _silence_ _the_ _verses_ _, the_ _whining_ _and the_ _prayers_ _that_ _might_ _have_ _slipped_ _out of them, like water_ _from_ _a river in_ _flood_ _, made_ _practically_ _no_ _noise_ _._  
_They_ _were_ _just_ _pants_ _._  
_His and not his ..._ _They_ _mixed_ _among_ _themselves_ _to_ _such_ _an extent that it was not even clear from Who they came, at times._

 _His_ _legs_ _were_ _open wide mean_ _while_ _Niji_ _tore_ _him_ _apart_ _,_ _entering_ _into_ _him_ _with_ _his hard and_ _wet_ _member_ _from_ _pre_ _-_ _cum_ _, which was going to strike_ _inside_ _him_ _with_ _so much_ _violence_ _that_ _it_ _seemed_ _to_ _him_ _that_ _he was on fire._  
_His_ _eyes_ _were_ _half_ _-closed,_ _they_ _didn't_ _want to know_ _how_ _to open_ _even_ _a little more:_ _why_ _should_ _they_ _, after all?_ _To_ _watch_ _Ichiji's_ _sneer_ _, who in_ _turn_ _watched_ _him_ _while_ _the blue man fucked_ _him_ _as_ _if_ _he was a_ _whore_ _or a_ _waste_ _?_ _To_ _notice_ _how_ _Yonji_ _wanted_ _nothing_ _more_ _than_ _to do the_ _same_ _thing_ _?_  
_No, Sanji_ _didn't_ _want to see_ _, he was_ _already so much_ _sick_ _with_ _half_ _-closed_ _eyes_ _, feeling more and more_ _dirty_ _, more and more sore ... And_ _above_ _all,_ _less_ _and_ _less_ _human_ _,_ _because_ _the_ _pain_ _that_ _trampled_ _him_ _had_ _been_ _so strong at first,_ _that_ _for some time he_ _started_ _to not_ _hear_ _it_ _anymore_ _, as_ _if_ _he was_ _getting_ _used to it, as_ _if_ _someone_ _was_ _telling_ _him_ _that_ _it was_ _something_ _he_ _had_ _to do and he simply could_ _not_ _choose anymore._

 _His_ _throat_ _swallowed_ _repeatedly_ _, this a_ _few_ _seconds_ _before_ _Yonji_ _was_ _probably_ _annoyed_ _enough_ _to do_ _nothing_ _and ended up to forcefully_ _open_ _his_ _mouth_ _,_ _thrusting_ _his_ _erection_ _into_ _his_ _throat_ _and_ _pushing_ _into_ _it_ _without_ _even_ _letting_ _him_ _to_ _being able to resist_ _._

  
_How_ _could_ _he_ _even_ _try_ _?_

 _He was_ _tied_ _up; his body was all_ _still_ _with_ _chains_ _that_ _made_ _him_ _sink_ _against_ _the_ _mattress_ _, his_ _hands_ _were_ _clearly_ _attached_ _to_ _each_ _other_ _, a_ _detail_ _that_ _prevented_ _him_ _even_ _from_ _slapping_ _the green-_ _haired_ _twin_ _before_ _he_ _could_ _carry_ _out his_ _action_ _._  
_He_ _could_ _have_ _bitten_ _, but how_ _would_ _be the_ _punishment_ _and... Exactly, on Who the punishment will end ?_ _Would_ _they_ _hit_ _him_ _or_ _maybe_ _the_ _viewfinder_ _would_ _be Zeff? Or,_ _again_ _,_ _maybe_ _they_ _would_ _just hurt_ _the lovely female cook, Cosette, all because_ _of his_ _transgressive_ _attitude_ _?_  
_A feeling of nausea rose in his_ _throat_ _as his head_ _felt_ _the_ _thrusts_ _both_ _in his_ _anus_ _and in his_ _mouth_ _,_ _with_ _the taste of cumming_ _splashing_ _down_ _into_ _it,_ _while_ _both_ _of the two siblings just came, first one and then the other_ , _immediately_ _switching_ _places_ _, as_ _if_ _it_ _was_ _a game._

 _He_ _felt_ _Niji_ _pulling_ _his_ _hair_ _, his_ _ass_ _being_ _grabbed_ _by_ _Yonji_ _and,_ _worse_ _yet_ _,_ _Ichiji_ _joined_ _in,_ _adding_ _himself_ _, so as to_ _make_ _a double_ _penetration_ _._  
_The_ _blond_ _,_ _when_ _the_ _two_ _members_ _entered_ _him_ _, first one and_ _then_ _the_ _other_ _,_ _understood_ _that_ _the_ _previous_ _pain_ _had_ _never_ _been_ _anything_ _compared_ _to_ _what_ _he_ _felt_ _at_ _that_ _moment,_ _while_ _a_ _scream_ _was born and,_ _immediately_ _after_ _that_ _,_ _died_ _during_ _the_ _violent_ _push of the second of the three brothers,_ _transforming_ _it_ _into_ _a_ _silent_ _cry_ _mixed_ _with_ _unspoken_ _words_ _,_ _while_ _inside_ _himself_ _the boy_ _prayed_ _, he_ _prayed_ _to_ _lose_ _consciousness_ _, he_ _even_ _prayed_ _to die so as not to_ _feel_ _that_ _torture_ _anymore_ _._  
_And_ _Ichiji_ _,_ _Niji_ _and_ _Yonji_ _, as_ _they_ _continued_ _to push_ _themselves_ _,_ _touched_ _him_ _._  
_They_ _grazed_ _his_ _nipples_ _._  
_They_ _tugged_ _at his_ _hair_ _,_ _pulling_ _it_ _until_ _it_ _felt_ _as_ _if_ _they_ _were_ _about to be_ _torn_ _._  
_They_ _pushed_ _him_ _towards_ _them to_ _get_ _even_ _deeper_ _and to find work_ _even_ _more_ _satisfying_ _._  
_They_ _laughed_ _at_ _him_ _,_ _insulting_ _him_ _and_ _even_ _laughing_ _of_ _his broken expression, of his patetic form..._

<< Failure. No one will ever love you >>

The phrase echoed in his head a second before he pulled himself up to sit upright from the hammock, almost slipping down from it, a hand traveling at once to his throat, as if it had a will of its own and was ready to suffocate him.  
His whole body was bathed in sweat, while his heartbeat, which went madly in his chest, tried to calm down from yet another damn nightmare.  
His eyes darted around the room very quickly: everyone was sleeping.  
Good. No one had noticed his awakening.  
And... Thank godness that, generally, in his nightmares, he didn't scream, otherwise he would have ended up waking someone, if not all of them ... And at that point he would have to explain why he had screamed ... And most likely someone could have really been worried about it, becoming suspicious because of his driving away the issue like an annoying fly.  
He got up, both hands getting into his own hair, with a showy tremor of his body that obviously wasn't due to the cold, then slipped out of the room like a shadow, without even realizing that someone had been watching him all the time, too busy from the desire to get rid of that disgusting sensation from his skin and from his mouth.

He would have threw up. Again. He felt it. Like, at least, once on every fucking day. And he cursed himself for it, because it was as if he was wasting food almost every morning.  
Then, after rejecting, he would take a hot bath, hoping that the soap would wash away, at least this time, some of the dirt that he felt on him and he really didn't want to.  
He had not done it so in the previous mornings, unfortunately ... But this would not made him stop trying.  
He reached the bathroom a few moments before he gagged, his throat already spilling out that feeling again, the taste of the cumm back into it, warm, dripping, forcing him to swallow it.  
Although in reality there was not any, he felt it the same, ending up hanging on to the toilet as if it were a matter of life or death and also rejecting his own soul at times.

When it was all over, he took a few moments of pause, slumped on the floor, then reached for the sink and removed the taste of vomit - which in some ways was still better than the orgasmic taste of one of his twins, at least -.  
Once removed, the tank was filled with as much hot water as possible, undressing in the meantime and he entered, shuddering at the difference between outside and inside.  
It burned every single and smallest inch of his skin ... But it was already burned, so there was no real problem with that.  
He let himself be lulled by the liquid, barely relaxing, putting his head below the water level and looking at how everything in it became extremely blurred and gleaming in unison.  
Holding his breath, he allowed himself to linger there for a while longer, pulling himself out only to hear his lungs beg for mercy and moving the clumps of blond hair that had stuck to his face, passing them behind his ears with clear distraction.  
And the celestial blue of his gaze clashed, willy-nilly, with the purple marks that ran through his ankles ... And his legs in general ... And his hips ... His chest ... His neck ...  
With a movement that may have been too fast, he got up, leaving the tank in a hurry and suddenly realizing that, perhaps out of distraction, he hadn't taken the changes with which to dress.  
"... Idiot," he said to himself mentally, shaking his head and grasping the bathrobe, letting it envelop him with its softness and its scent.

It didn't take long before he came out of the bathroom and clashed against the one who proved to be probably there by ... How much time? He had no idea. He could not understand it, if he had to be sincere.  
It was the mosshead, which for the second time in twenty-four hours made him get a sort of anxiety's performance.  
<< Marimo >> he said, tightening his lips and looking at him with false calm and equally false scorn.  
<< Cook >> Zoro's tone was as serious and impassive as ever, with something that, at the same time, seemed strange, that the blond didn't know whether to ignore or not, wondering if it was always his fault if it seemed like that, or if perhaps in his tone there was really something different.  
The swordsman remained silent as the other slowly moved away from the bathroom door, clutching his robe, then spoke again. 

<< You were slow. >>  
A nerve almost immediately went to the cook, so much so that he found himself gritting his teeth at this comment.  
<< Well. It doesn't hurt you to wait, algae head. Are you afraid of wasting time for being able to do photosynthesis? >>  
"Try to switch places and throw up for me, let's see if you are so happy with it," he thought to himself, looking rather irritated.  
Zoro didn't answer him, not in words, at least.  
He simply continued to stare at him to the point that the blond felt much more uncomfortable than normal, without even understanding why, sensing his stomach twisting and the desire to escape from the gray metal that bullied him with arrogance.

He tried to move away definitively from the other, but before he succeeded, his arm was tightened in a grip, which not only made him jump from surprise, but that even led him to whiten, turning over with something of almost schizophrenic.  
It took about twenty seconds to erase the laughter that had come back to take his mind, ten to delete Ichiji's smirk and five more to focus on the fact that no, he wasn't there anymore and no, no one would hurt him .  
"It's just Zoro. He's just that Zoro-jerk. Calm down"  
<< What the fuck, shitty Marimo, looking for a fight? Want a piece of me? >> he snapped acidly, freeing himself from his grip with angryness, throwing him a lightning glare.  
And again, there he is. That look, mixed with the silence of the swordsman, which only served to make him sweat coldly.  
"What the hell? Did he...? No. No. He can't . He can't have realized it. He's just a motherfucking cabbage head. He spends eighty percent of his time sleeping. Why should he just notice something like that? No. I'm just imagining things."  
He roused himself, resumed walking more and more fastly, looking at the arm that the swordsman had previously held in his hand.  
He had been lucky, in some ways, that at least there had been no bruises on it.


	3. Chapter three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trying to be normal. But failing. Again.
> 
> Or
> 
> Never ignore a waiting swordsman if you don't want to get attacked.

<< Nami-Swaan ~! Robin-chwaan ~! Carrot-chwaan ~! Snack time >> exclaimed the cook, slipping out of the kitchen and holding up the stuffed cups of Tiramisu, especially made by him to occupy his mind.  
Cooking was the only thing that freed him from bad thoughts ... And if he could do it and at the same time make his goddesses happy, Sanji would have done it without delay.  
Of course, when he had finished preparing the dishes on which he had thrown his attention, his mind immediately returned to being trapped by the unpleasant images that he just could not get rid of ... But as long as there was still that short period of peace in the kitchen, at least, he wouldn't risk going mad.  
<< Oh, thank you very much, Sanji~kun! >> was the quick response of the navigator, who instantly grabbed her cup, smiling, being followed in the gesture by the archaeologist with her gaze: She was looking at him thoughtfully, a really strange smile on her beautiful face… and the << Snack? ... Sanji~san, Garchu! >> of the rabbit girl who literally slammed her cheek against his ... Not that he was opposing to it, absolutely not, but ... There was always that touching dilemma that rose to the surface and, despite not wanting it, it made him freeze for a small, very small, instant on the spot, only to recover very quickly.  
He hoped with all his heart that the look or appearance of his own body had not betrayed him, especially so close to Robin.  
The woman was extraordinarily intuitive and smart, her glances were about of said and unsaid since the first day she had sailed with them on the Going Merry, becoming officially part of the crew. 

If there was someone who could totally discover his problem, he was sure of it, it was her: he had to be more cautious, if he looked too much weird, Robin would know.   
He forced himself to smile, spoiling them with complements about their shining beauty and then making a small bow, seeming more like he should be, so as not to worry her, not to worry anyone, just as he wanted, and then to wait briefly for the three girls to give their opinion, thanking immediately afterwards and disappearing with the usual fake smile on his lips , reaching the kitchen.

As soon as he entered, he could not help but stop himself on the spot to the usual view of the swordsman, sitting at the table, with the expression of someone who had waited for a good half hour, but who was ready to wait again to reach his goal, whatever it was.  
Determination and patience flashed in his sharp gaze, which rested on him and seemed not to want to detach from his figure anymore.  
Sanji's breath caught in his throat, leaving him there, motionless, unable to understand at all ... Well ...  
Unable to understand at all the reason why the seaweed head was there, again.  
He could have taken his damned sake and disappeared if that was his request, to witness this there were all the times when he had stolen alcohol without telling him anything, then making him pissed off and making him immediately to kick him as soon as he reached the deck, waking him from his afternoon's nap.  
He decided to ignore him , to not care about him, about his extraordinarily strange attitude and behavior at all.   
Even during lunch he had seemed very ... Different ... Almost not like himself too, so much that instead of trying to activate the usual possible fights or quarrel, simply, when he had given him his dish, just like the night before, the man had grabbed his wrist and tightened it, making him wince again and insult him, getting no response.

It was a big problem.  
Really a big problem.  
_Zoro_ _was_ _not_ _acting_ _as he_ _should_ _have_ _._  
Zoro was looking for his eyes and generally, he realized it only at that exact moment, although not too close to each other, he always seemed to be breathing down on his neck.  
It was fucking maddening ... It was, really, especially because Sanji suspected that he knew, and now that idea only increased in his head.

As much as the swordsman could be stupid, it seemed this way.  
If he was looking for contacts, if he looked at him like that, surely there had to be a reason.  
For a moment he tried to hypothesize that he had hit his head and therefore, maybe, he was doing so because mentally he had become even more retarded, but ... No, maybe it wasn't because of this ... And that scared him to death.  
He didn't want him to find out anything. He didn't have to find out anything. He shouldn't have even the smallest suspect.  
Zoro could not know how shameful and failed was who should have been his rival: he didn't want him to realize it.  
His pity was the only thing he didn't want and he would never wanted to have, like he'd never look for anyone's, anyway.  
It hurted him, instead of helping him, it hurted him as much as never before, even more than the treatment received by the brothers.  
For this reason he would have done everything to reduce the probability that he was aware of it: he would have turned away from him as much as he could, he would had to let it go, he would had started to spend his time in all possible ways so as not to be alone with him, ending up hearing the other one who admitted to be knowing the truth.

"Shit. I should concentrate on dinner" he told himself, then heard the captain's voice screaming for food, though they were barely five in the afternoon, which was why he was even scolded by Nami's shrill voice .  
Thinking about this, he quickly peered between the stock and brought a cigarette to his lips, lighting it, requesting a new dose of nicotine to relieve once again the weight that his head seemed to contain, thus choosing to throw himself later on a Menu not too much sophisticated , but with the good dose of nutrients that the crew needed.  
With his thoughts suddenly thrown on the future to be done, he finally managed to let go of the insistent and not hidden look of the man still sitting at the table, paying close attention to him.  
There was a strange flashing in his eyes, just for a moment.  
He didn't even notice him getting up and approaching, literally stepping over the shelf on which the cook generally supported the dishes when they were ready.  
Certainly, however, he realized that the swordsman grabbed both his wrists and slammed them with not so much softness against the column in the middle of it.  
At the moment when he was pinned against the wall and forced to find himself at a minimum distance from every part of the body of the other man, he could no longer avoid staring at him, the only blue eye that focused on the gray one of his rival.

Zoro... He almost looked ... Angry.  
Or perhaps, the word that best defined his expression was furious.  
The blond trembled, feeling every other nod of skin that pressed against his own weight, so much that in addition to a strangled gasp for the slamming of his back, his cheeks turned red with frustration.  
He wanted to be able to free himself, perhaps giving Marimo a kick where the sun wasn't beating, but he was so pinned to the wall, so unable to make movements, that he felt totally trapped, like a little bird enclosed in a cage too small for him.  
Trapped just like in the walls of that sort of golden cage that was the Vinsmoke's castle.  
Trapped just like when they told him they had Zeff as a hostage and they put the explosive bracelets - which then explosives hadn't been, but who could have imagined it? - around his wrists.  
Trapped just as it had been on that stupid cold bed, assaulted by the brothers as a dish ... And used as a toy, a small doll to be exploited at will until it was broken enough to be unusable.  
He could not say anything, to do nothing: he was so paralyzed where he was, with his brain going intermittently, even if it had been a dead battery, that part of himself would only have died, knowing that the other one was already dead .

<< Cook >> the voice of the swordsman reached as far as his ears, almost an echo, erased by the burning chaos that ate Sanji's mind piece by piece, like a cannibal, ready to tear off another one, the latter allowing deterioration to reach extremes levels.  
When the boy looked in front of him, at that moment, he could no longer see Zoro: his face was as if it had been replaced, cut out and the one of the major of the twins had been copy-glued in its place.  
It was horrible. 

A real nightmare.

But he was awake. He knew. 

  
He wanted only to scream now.  
He would have liked to pray that that stupid face would disappear so as not to remind him everything.   
_He_ wanted to disappear, burying himself alive, not to feel that torment anymore.  
But all he wanted seemed to never be given to him.

His cruel grin, like the one of a hunting beast.  
His gaze that seemed to tease him.  
His laughter that despised him and came out loud with the only purpose of making him feel smaller and so fucking scared.   
His voice spitting back at him, without any respite.  
His revolting touch, accompanied by the nails that scratched him.  
They were all there; engraved in his mind as through iron and flames.  
The whole was clinging to it as if it had the claws that sank in its smallest part, tearing away everything they found until it made an indefinite pulp.  
In some ways, along with the other two brothers and the one who he refused to define as his father, they were the only thing of which, in some ways, he was sure he couldn't forget ... And perhaps, for this reason, the bubble erupted in his head with the belief that, no.  
He would never, ever, _ever_ get back the Sanji he had been before.  
And everything simply turned black, while, increasingly in the distance, more and more in one side of his mind, a voice called him back with a confused and incomprehensible grumble.


	4. Chapter four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He can't escape anymore from the talk, can he?
> 
> Or
> 
> The swordsman is very stubborn. And knows where to hit.

He could feel the covers under him when he regained his senses, soft and full of a shy warmth that allowed him to sit there, his mind lost in a silent nothing, his eyes closed in the acid and rather wrong desire to never open them again, to don't bump into reality again, when being there seemed more relaxing than most of the things he had to face in those last weeks.  
It was as if he had detached himself from the world, as if his brain, to protect himself from the constant self-destruction, had thrown the mental current into the trash and had simply made his mind empty, light, devoid of that compress killer that hit his chest and that made him feel so in danger that he would not breathe normally even hoping for it with all his heart.  
He was therefore willing to stay where he was, in that peace of his, in that calm that did not suggest or directly beat his own weakness in his face, his inability to survive without having a panic attack or a shiver of fear every day of his existence.

And yet, whether he wanted it or not, his eyes opened, raising a minimum, enough to receive a ray of light directly against them, a single beam that led him to squeeze his eyes desperately, not yet able to get used to the light when the darkness seemed so welcoming, only realizing to the last ones -Once after moving slightly backwards, escaping the luminous fingers that slipped from the slit of the infirmary door- of the figure sitting not so far from him.  
Looking at him with vague concern and various questions that revolved in his gray eyes, leaning against a wooden chair that clashed slightly against a wall of the room, the swordsman seemed to have noticed his awakening, enough to stand up, his hands resting on the hilt of Sandai Kitetsu - but without the tension that said he would have unsheathed the katana - and a slow advance towards the bed, towards _him_.  
Something in the cautious way in which Zoro proceeded, almost unsure of how to move to get near to him, left Sanji somewhat perplexed, almost even shocked, but did not expose any comment, feeling his throat too dry to try ... And his lips almost sewn together at times, too heavy to be moved even one millimeter from each other.  
The only thing he instinctively did, after the swordsman was practically against the edge of his bed, was to move his eyes away from those of the other.  
The continuous and obsessive look of his rival was making him feel a damn lump in his throat.

Zoro looked at him again, though, almost indifferent to his behavior and lightly touched his hand, enough to provoke a new clash of glances, as the lack of preparation for the contact had once again grabbed the blond, filling him from head to toe and leaving him to shell eyes - or eye, as it was visible -, lips slightly parted.  
A moment of silence, two, then the green-haired man sighed with what looked like frustration and a strange vein of ... Sadness?

Was he really sad or couldn't Sanji even understand anymore how this kind of emotion was on others, now? Had he blinded himself to such an extent because he was already a failure at the start, even with other people?

<< What the hell is wrong with you, ero-cook? >> Zoro muttered, frowning, instantly moving the hand that had even just touched the blond's to carry it along his own side, closed in a fist.  
<< What happened to you? >> The green head asked, adding immediatly new phrases to his talking << And don't pretend to be okay, saying 'nothing' or something like that shitty lie, because no matter how stupid you say I am, even a blind man would realize how weird you are. >>He paused, not particularly for a long time << You're not yourself right now, and you can't deny it >>

Sanji's fingers stirred slightly in a desperate attempt to grab an invisible cigarette, knowing that, if he was there, in the infirmary, Chopper must have probably already taken them away from him.  
The doctor would never have allowed him to smoke in the infirmary ... In general he didn't really want him to, but on that he couldn't do a lot, like, at all.  
Anyway, until the blond was going to be in the little-big reindeer's 'territory' , he couldn't have done it, even if he had asked someone to bring them to him.  
He gritted his teeth, looking deliberately elsewhere, again.  
He didn't want to give answers to the Marimo. Nope. He didn't have to give them.

<< Why should you be interested? This is my business, you should not be bothered to know >> the blonde managed to say, finally escaping from the dryness of his throat, from the big effort to move his mouth and therefore formulate a line without mumbling, gasping or swallowing like a dumb fish.  
<< Don't be an idiot, cook >> Zoro's voice mingled with a slight growl as he spoke the four words, loud enough to make Sanji's teeth clench once again, knowing that it wouldn't be easy to shake the 'plantman' off , realizing that he probably would not have succeeded at all, but still determined to try.  
Sanji knew how to irritate the other boy, if he had to be petty to avoid any consequences in the case he had spitted out the truth, he would do it.

  
<< Stop asking questions. You'll cook your brain, Marimo. Plants are not made to think >>  
From the movement of both Zoro's hands, which opened and closed repetitively, as if wishing to strangle him, he noticed all the nervousness that this comment brought him to the surface, then mixed with a repeated breath to calm down.  
<< No, you overdone it, cook. You have to stop it. And seriously. I'm just interested, okay? I am your nakama and whether you want it or not,or you'll talk about it, or you'll talk about it _anyway_. You have no second options. Not after you fainted. Not after all the times I've seen you wake up in the middle of the night. Then spits the toad already, bastard >>  
<< And if I didn't want to? What is it, would you come to blackmail me? Would you stay here to insist and put that hurt expression, hoping that I'll end up changing my mind? Because if you hope in one of the two options, I'm sorry but you'll be very disappointed >>  
<< I'll talk to the others >> the swordsman snapped without thinking twice.   
<< I'll make sure that they get you thrown out everything. Maybe the Witch... >>

<< Don't call Nami like that! >> Sanji snarled, trying to ignore where the speech was going and to start a quarrel in some way. But failing.

<< ... Maybe She could do it. >> Zoro raised his eyebrows << And at least you would throw everything out, but of course _everyone_ into the crew would know about it. Everyone. About every single detail. >>

Sanji, at the last phrase, found himself literally speechless.  
Imagining _all_ the crew aware of what had happened to him... It was horrible.

The idea squeezed his stomach in such a way that, instantly he began to breathe more quickly, trying to calm himself down, to restrain the tremors that shook his arms, while his eyes ... .  
His eyes seemed to catch fire, not even crossed by lava.  
He brought his hands to his hair, grabbing them, pulling them again and again insistently, hoping that the pain in his scalp would erase what was born from Zoro's words, hoping to be able to close his eyes again, to empty himself completely.  
A nervous laugh escaped from his mouth, a laugh that didn't really was cheerful.  
It was almost hysterical, it sounded sour and came out with that irony that tipped over his head, devouring his brain with images.  
Expressions of disgust from the others.  
Words of fake understanding, apprehensive tones, but covered with a pity mixed with the obvious feeling that he would have said that he was not enough, that he was not worthy of being looked at as always , that ...

<<Sanji >> the swordsman's voice cleared a path in his head.

That one word, _his_ _name_ , a name that the other didn't use often, something that had been able to detach him from the net of thoughts that had twisted him in those few moments, but moments that he had never seemed to pass, falling on him with all their weight.  
<< Listen to me, Sanji >> Zoro did it again, speaking those five letters cautiously, almost pondering over them, softening them unnaturally, looking for his eye contact. << I don't want you to talk about it to hurt you. Whatever it is that you keep bringing with you ... It's destroying you. For real. The only thing I want is to be able to help you, idiot. But I can't do that if you don't allow me. >> Zoro seemed to be looking for something else to say, anything, to proceed in his talking ,hinting an half-smiling expression, an half smile that didn't reach his eyes, an half smile that only knew about frustration, as his hands brushed against the bed, almost going near him to touch him, but then slid down again, not even dragged by gravity.

<< I don't want to see you like that. It bothers me >> a pause << And it annoys me that you, as the moron as You are, keep it all on you, when you could simply trust yourself to ... >> he fell silent, closing his eyes and shaking his head, then resumed looking at him << To us... To any of us. We care about you. You're really stupid if you don't think so. Talk to me, talk to Luffy, to Usopp, to Chopper ... I don't care who. I just want you to go back to be the one you've always been before. >> one of his hands tried to get close to those of the blonde, again, but Zoro stopped his wrist before he could touch him, returning therefore where he was before, rousing himself << We all want you to >>

The cook was initially silent, not knowing what to say exactly, feeling taken aback by such a confession from the other boy, while the obviousness of having already worried the whole crew without even realizing it was slammed in his face, almost like a slap.  
Everyone understood that something was wrong.

Dammit!

  
They had covered it very well, since he had continued to believe that he had not given too many signs, he had hoped that it was only Zoro who seemed strangely close to the truth, close to the fact that he was not fine _at all_ , but it was not like this.  
He felt so stupid.  
Stupid for having truly hoped for it.  
Stupid because he still hoped for it, after the Marimo had just said those words to him.  
Stupid.

Stupid.

Idiot. 

Useless

Burned.

Wrong.

Failure.

Unable to do anything right.

Different.

Weak.

<< I don't ... >> the cook tried to talk, but the words stopped immediately, leading him to look at his hands insistently << I don't think it's possible >>  
<< Why? >> Zoro's tone was obviously bitter and confused at the same time << What is not possible? To talk about it? >>  
<< To be as before... Maybe >> Sanji blushed slightly, ashamed of how the words slipped from his lips, willy-nilly, almost pulled out from the expression painted on his swordsman's face, chased out by his gaze.  
<< I don't think ... I don't think it exists anymore. What I am now... is all I have left >>  
In that silver that stared at him, he saw an emotion flicker, then another, then another again, followed by the slight opening of his lips, but his words died on them, this because he silenced himself, urging the blonde to keep talking.

Sanji took a long, big, breath, then he just started talking.


	5. Chapter five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And there we are. The talk.

<< I don't ... I don't like it. Who I am now, I mean. I'm constantly ... Terrified. By anyone. Even by myself. I'm ashamed for this thing, really, but ... That's it. I'm afraid and I can't get rid of it. It's so disgusting, so wrong and so much not alike to the person that I was before. That _me_ was not afraid of too many things ... of course, there were some... But anyway, well, people were not included among them. That me lived among pirates, he lived with beatings and with some internal scar that wasn't ... That wasn't really that bad. Well, they were, a little bit, bad. Starving is not exactly the most beautiful activity in the world ... but afraid of people? Never. While now, huh ... >> Sanji took a short breath, making a grimace, his blue eye that seemed to freeze, almost dying in some ways, with the disgust that seemed the only readable thing in them

<< But... I am so pityful, now, that a minimum, physical contact, is enough to make me stiffen. A thought is enough for me to isolate myself from anyone and end up elsewhere. Always there, where I wouldn't want to be at all. Always ... >> his breath stopped and his voice died in his throat, preventing him from proceeding.

Zoro waited, not giving him pressure, sitting on his bed to decrease the distance and make him understand that he would stay, that he would wait even if he had been silent for a whole day.  
This made the blonde perceive a strange heat, albeit slight, in the pit of his stomach, with gratitude all around, two emotions that he forced himself to expel quickly, because if he had lingered on It for too much time, he probably would have really remained silent, so he just found, into his mind, into his mouth and his body, the strength to speak again.  
<< There. With them. Those ... Those bastards >> his face, if It had been bent into a grimace before, by now it had become the complete and total representation of his remorse, of his contempt and hatred, even though the tears were not yet willing to fall, trapped between his eyelids.

<< When I was young, I thought they had already done too much. That they had already hurted me enough. That they had managed to demolish me, to make me different, to express their worst with me. But apparently I was wrong. They had never reached their peak, they never went on this kind of thing. No. Because they were children after all. They didn't have this forceful and horrible thoughts yet. They did not ... >> he bit his lips, clenched them between his teeth until they bled, stopping only when the swordsman's grip squeezed his hand, whispering something with a husky voice.

<< Don't do that >> he just said, a reproach that seemed more about apprehension and that forced him to nod a little, all before taking the courage to advance into his speech, strangely not accepting to let go of Zoro's hand until having succeeded.

<< This... _humiliation_ ... I wish I'd never descover it >>  
The blond's hands went to rest, without even realizing it, on the fabric of his companion's kimono, tugging at it as if it depended on his life, letting out a sob, a single sob, this before he forced himself to swallow the others, blocking them by force , shaking his head.  
<< And the thing even more ... More stupid is ... That as much as they really hurted me... No, as much as they _destroyed_ me ... As wrong is what they did to me ... I didn't want them to die when I found out they would had killed us all, at Whole Cake Island. I did not want it to happen. Because a stupid part of me still would like to have their affection, even if it makes absolutely no sense to want it. Like a frightned child who didn't receaved the right present on Christmas and then he just waited for the next years. _He_ always wanted it, I think. _He_ wanted to be accepted, as theoretically a child, a son should be among the people of the same family. He _really_ wanted it. >>

Sanji took a slight pause.

<< And because that part of me insisted that I still have a blood bond with them, he felt he couldn't turn his back on them, he wasn't capable of doing so. And because _another part_ of me told me I deserved it. That I deserved what they did to me. That... That I... I deserved to be... To be... >>

<< You Don't have to say it out loud >> Zoro said << I did understand, now >>

<< No. I think... I Need to say it. >> The blond boy stiffened, trying to breathe even if his air seemed to be kicked out from his lungs. His hand slightly twitched, trembling. God, he really needed a cigarette << That... That part of me... He tought I deserved to... To be raped >> his voice turned into a whisper while the word escaped from his mouth, leaving a weird silence. Sanji, after a little while, finally restarted talking.

<< That part of me think that I _still_ _deserve_ _it._ That if I suffered it is because I had to suffer, because I am not worthy to be happy. And it's stupid. Very stupid. No one deserves such a thing. But he still continues to tell me that anyway. >> again, a pause, while he met the other's gaze with desperation, with tears starting to fall.

<< How sick am I in my own head? Why can't I just shut them all up? Why am I so uncertain and insecure? It shouldn't be this way. I should just hate them, not agreeing with the latters. God, I freaking suck. I'm sick. And wrong. So fucking wrong. I'm so sorry. I really wish I would be back to who I was before. I wish it were all a damn stupid nightmare, I wish to be back to Zou and to figure out from the start how to prevent everything from collapsing in this way. I would still be worthy to be here, with you all, to be ... that _me_ that I want to be. But it's not possible, isn't it? Because it's all true. It's not something I can escape from. So I was just hoping ... That it wasn't so obvious. That I could get over it before you all knew it >>  
<< As if it were possible. You were extremely obvious >> the swordsman replied, with a slight smile, a momentary expression that changed into a blink of an eye, becoming serious and upset, getting even closer, to the point that Sanji found himself literally locked in a strong and a little bit suffocating hug.

The gesture, at first, waved him a little, so much so that he paralyzed himself for the umpteenth time, but... for reasons that were not clear even to him, after a few moments, he relaxed.  
Maybe it was because he knew it was Zoro and, in a sense, he felt deeply that being afraid of him made no sense.  
Perhaps it was because the warmth of those arms that held him gave him some confidence.  
Perhaps it was because he knew his brothers would never embrace him.  
The fact was that, for one reason or another, the blond relaxed enough to feel his hands stopping from shaking, worries ready to fly out from the window and abandon him, a leaving that would not have been unpleasant, indeed, most likely it would have freed him of a burden.  
<< You are really stupid, cook. >> Zoro said, allowing him to hide his head in the crook of his neck and starting to move his hands gently on his back, caressing him in such a way that Sanji could feel the chills on his skin. 

The blond didn't protested at the insult, maybe too tired even to try... Or maybe because "stupid" wasn't the worst word he received in those days, especially by his own head.

 _< < That you didn't_ go away just because you think that ... _Those_ ... >> he could hear the anger amount in his voice, just for a few moments, before he returned to speaking normally << That they took him away and let it be gone forever. He's still _here_. He's a bit lost, maybe ... >>  
A half laugh came from Sanji's lips, instinctive << You're the only one to get lost, Marimo >>  
<< Here. Exactly >> he made an irritated tone, but Sanji could hear him smile a little bit just before he broke his own embrace, taking his face in his hands tenderly in exchange and looking at him in silence with a tenderness that Sanji couldn't even describe.

<< He's still there. You just have to free it from some little things, then it will certainly come back with his usual styled entries. Because that's what you did, you do and you'll always will be doing, right? >>  
Sanji barely nodded, a slight smile forming on his face.  
<< Never think about things like that again. Not of yourself. There are so many adjectives I could give you, but the ones you listed are a thousand miles away from mine. But above all ... You deserve to be happy. You don't have to doubt it. If there is someone who does not deserve happiness, you can be more than sure that he is not here. And that if I could I would kick him for you. I would do it to all of them. _They_ deserve this. And it would be the minimum >>  
The blond muttered some incomprehensible words, leaning back to the swordsman, as if to request his warmth again.  
It seemed that after having it for the first time, he was not so willing to let it go so easily.  
It was pleasant,it gave him a sense of security, of protection and ... He wanted to be lulled by it, at least for about ten minutes, then ... Then he would have allowed himself to think of something else, he would have allowed himself to be found by problems based on his chef's place on the crew - What time was it exactly, how many time he has passed unconscious, whether they had eaten or not, if they wanted something ... Luffy would certainly have asked for something, but he was something else, so automatically he was someone to calculate -

<< Thanks >> he whispered, letting his smell, his warmth, the solidity of his shoulders and the protection that emerged from Zoro welcoming him among his coils, which tightened on him again, healing him, at least a little, from the wounds of that internal struggle that for the moment had calmed down.  
The sinking, for the moment, was no more in his head, there was only an apnea, mild, almost imperceptible, which asked him to go back to the surface and take oxygen, so that his lungs would stop burning from his absence.  
Perhaps, he wasn't totally sure, it wouldn't take too long for it, not if he let himself breathe as he should, not if he admitted his need for someone to support him, every now and then.  
Maybe his pride would have suffered a little, but he certainly wouldn't have suffered as with the Vinsmoke treatment.  
<< Don't mention it >> Zoro gently rested his chin on his head, giving him a few more light strokes on his back. << Rest now, cook. You have to get back several hours of sleep >>  
In a sense he wanted to say that he didn't need them, that he had to work, but even before he tried to, the black nothing took him in, making him fall sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter on a Christmas holiday, of course :D


	6. Chapter six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanji is cooking
> 
> Or
> 
> The poor boy can't stop thinking and he is embarassed as hell.

It could be only heared the sound of the knife chopping vegetables quickly in the kitchen, his crumbling, while the the many dishes' smell caused the captain's constant moaning, lurking outside of the door with a blatant pout and his almost insatiable stomach that still grumbled again and again.

If he had not already entered, it was for the simple reason that before he tried, Sanji had placed himself in front of it as if he was a watchdog, looking at the captain rather crooked and he threatened him not to give him food if he had tried, so as to prevent him definitively from setting foot in his so-called 'sacred place' and above all to annoying him, trying to steal part of the food from under his nose.  
The blond was already sufficiently distracted by his thoughts, he knew he would not be able enough to stop him in time, in the unlikely event that It had happened.  
His brain did nothing but focus on the previous day and how he had woken up that morning: always in the infirmary's bed, always in the same reassuring embrace.

It had been an extremely kind action on his part, he kept on saying to himself, with his gaze resting first on the work done and then in the direction of the entrance, although almost absent in the second case, almost expecting the swordsman to appear, passing her to ask about alcohol of course, which stopped him for a long time, only a little later taking control of the situation and his own movements, throwing open the oven.

  
"I didn't imagine that he could be this way ... And with me, mostly"

  
He bit his lower lip, running his tongue over it, sighing a little.  
The pan, occupied entirely by a rather inviting roast, immediately peeked out, showing its slightly golden complexion on the skin and on the potatoes that decorated it, although not cooked enough to be ready, which he noticed with a small, small look.  
So he went back to closing the electronic instrument and picking up various dishes, arranging them in an order that looked like a flower: one was in the center, surrounded by three others in the beginning that seemed to reproduce a triangle, then followed by another three, a little more distant... and then the last four.  
"Not bad," he said to himself, not indicating the dishes at all, but rather the memory of the feeling of the other's hands brushing his face, something he would never have imagined if not in the context of pulling his cheeks or maybe giving him a slap or a punch, opening the eyelids and the mouth to realize what kind of thought he had done and ... denying It instantly, insulting and lying with very harsh toughts to himself with the idea that he was referring to the pieces of pottery.

Because, after all, no matter how much he tried to keep his head on cooking all the food that were being prepared with care, and even with how much he wanted to be sure that their aesthetics were in the best shape possible, he couldn't keep his attention, this only because it was deviated so damn easily, and kept going to throw itself on a certain swordsman, almost as if his brain was mimicking him and making fun of him for every time he had declared openly to feel attraction only and only for women, his Goddesses, his delicate and beautiful flowers.  
And he was taking it for the bottoms in a rather intense manner, as he simply could not fail to consider every single moment in which the aforementioned 'confession' about what happened to him had taken note, with the addition of the insistent image that he had found when he awoke:  
Zoro, with a relaxed expression, his face at a minimum distance from his, with a hint of drool running down his chin and, of course, his strong, muscular arms clawed at his waist, at his sides.  
At first he looked at him with shock and confusion, unable to understand why he was there, why he was hugging him and above all why they were in the same bed, blushing more than he would have liked to admit.  
But then he had remembered everything ... And the redness had deteriorated even more, becoming of such a red that he could only be grateful for the fact that Marimo was still in the world of dreams.  
Seeing him blushing like a schoolgirl in love for a few words put to the right level, a hug and falling asleep together?

Never; he would have teased him for the rest of his life and maybe even after for a thing like this, making a big, big laugh out of it, making him feel ridiculous, because... no, he wasn't a kid going to school - and he wasn't a little girl! He knew his own sex quite well, thanks, fucking okamas - but above all ... He wasn't in love! No! Absolutely not!   
He was just ... Embarrassed as hell ... Because he had let himself go with the person who never, definitely never, would have imagined he could help him.  
He had, for a little moment, forgotten their rivalry and talked to him about something intimate, talked to him about his real thoughts and the other boy really listened to them, then reassured him and ... He practically caressed him.

  
He had embraced him.

  
He had taken his face into his hands and looked at him almost as if...

Almost as if he valued him more than a simple rival... or a nakama, even.

  
But, God, maybe he could have imagined it, that look.  
For a moment he had assessed that the whole event had been all the fruit of his sick mind that had thrown him an even more sick fantasy, but then he had ruled it out, because just ... As he had already thought before ... he could never have imagined such an attitude on Zoro's part towards him, so it was excluded.

So, logically, trying to maintain at least a little of the sanity that he still had, he must have misinterpreted the look and nothing else.  
Most of Marimo's actions had been carried out in the beginning to calm him down and to help him, not for anything else.

Nope.

  
There was no hidden message, a something which he should have particularly worried.  
There was only the relationship about two crewmates between them, nothing more than that.  
They were simply two enemy slash friends who wanted to release their tensions, quarreling like two idiots by dint of kicks and sword strokes, always looking for the most ridiculous reasons to get annoyed and set off a challenge, argument or real fight.  
Having deduced this, Sanji said to himself that he could calm down, stop lingering too much on the other's image as if he was evaluating everything in any of his shades... and above all, as if at in any moment he was ready to accept any other weirdness that would have come out of the swordsman's mind, even at a replay of this event.  
And no, for heaven's sake, Zeff could have hit him over and over again if it had been so.  
By putting things in order, therefore, what had happened would not be repeated, their way of doing things would never have changed in such a way, he would have stopped having Zoro to distract him every second of his existence and Sanji would not have been allowed to mutilate his brain more than it already was.  
He was convinced of it.

Or so, at least, he insisted and that's it.  
Because if he was really convinced, he would not have felt a slight annoyance at the idea of the other that, a day before he became all that kind and, maybe, the next day he returned to be the irritating and annoying Marimo who did not loose the opportunity to insult him - albeit the insults were not serious. I mean, come on. Curly eyebrows? Perverted cook? Could they really be called insults? They were only able to make him nervous, but they were more playful than real 'insults'. Insults were those that his family brought out. - and that despite the fact that almost three years had passed, he had never bothered to offer him even a compliment for his kitchen - was it really so difficult to say whether or not he liked what he was chewing? Ah, well, he couldn't know. He had no cabbage instead of his head, so it was impossible for them to think the same way. -.  
"I'll just need ... Uh ... To get back things. Maybe it's just something of today, tomorrow and that's it. I could go back to the natural state with a nice ride on an island ... If only we could reach the next as soon as possible .. . "

All he could do was scratch his head lightly, ruffling his hair, rinse his hands immediately afterwards, remove the oven in which the roast was, arrange it as a centerpiece, add the other dishes all around, deposit the empty plates in front of each chair next to napkins, cutlery, glasses and call the whole brigade at the table.  
The first to arrive, of course, was Luffy, who seemed to literally catapult himself into his chair, beating his sandals between them, with drool running down from his mouth and eyes that gleamed - all quite normal, if it was about food -.  
Carrot, Robin and Nami arrived after Luffy.  
The girls chatted cheerfully and seemed in a clear mood, which cheered the chef's heart.  
Then came Franky, Brook, Chopper and Usopp, almost in pairs, sitting down at the table in a hurry to avoid the captain stealing their food before they could sit down.  
And of course, as if to do it on purpose, the last to arrive was the Marimo, whose ugly snout showed a yawn, barely covered by the hand, but whose inquiring gaze returned to the attack, as if to understand if today he was okay or not , making him feel a strange flicker in his stomach.


	7. Chapter seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small talk with Nami
> 
> Or... the Mugiwara crew's plans Is revealed...

* * *

<< So >> Sanji licked his lips a little, approaching and directing his gaze to the one of the navigator, who seemed careful to observe the Log Pose and the map at the same time << How long will we need to get to the next island, Nami ~ Swan? >>

The girl smiled at him, briefly putting the map down << I'd say three days, if the weather allow us. It does not seem that there will be a storm for the moment, but in the event that weather changes drastically, from three days it will probably become five. >>

The blond tried to hide the discomfort of the idea of having to support his mind and his thoughts for more than forty-eight hours on the ship, in fact he smiled slightly, putting his hand in his pockets, always looking for a cigarette.

<< How is it called, exactly?... The island, I Mean >>

<< Inunomachi island >> answered the redhead, returning to look briefly at the Log Pose << It's a spring island. Robin inquired and said that there are many natural caves, waterfalls and lakes. >>

The blond nodded, already imagining in some ways a breathtaking rural landscape.  
  


And then, Sanji found himself for a few seconds wondering if moving away now was the best or the worst of choices, limiting himself to staring at the sky and losing himself in the white clouds that were beginning to fade into blue where they ended, trying to shake off the fact that that particular afternoon was a total torture for him and was flowing at a disarming slowness.

He had almost broken a plate and three glasses at the end of lunch: he had managed to get them back on the fly, recovering them with a mastery he had accumulated through years of work, but he had definitely not gone unnoticed, a detail that had left him to curse himself internally.

He didn't want to worry anyone, really, but he seemed, apparently, to be unable to do it.

And all because Zoro's thoughts were added to those already present in his family and ... It seemed that his mind had turned into a labyrinth in which as soon as he turned, he slammed against a wall.

<< Sanji ~ kun >> the navigator, turning into his direction, simply approached him after a few seconds << Can I ask you something? >>

<< Sure my dear flower, ask whatever you want >> the blonde replied, putting his cigarette to his lips and preparing to light it.

He didn't know why, but he was already tensing up, probably because he felt that some question would come to which he would struggle to offer any kind of answer.

There was fifty percent that it would have been an uncomfortable question, a slice of about thirty, thirty-five, on a half-awkward question and a twenty or a fifteen on a normal request that he would not have suffered too much.

So yes, it would probably have been a not much appreciated question, to which he would have answered, of course, but ... With a lot of effort.

Or maybe ... Maybe he was the only one to make himself tense?

Maybe it was just his nerves that bandaged his head before anyone could even have the chance to give him a shot.

<< Will you answer sincerely? >> the girl widened her smile, looking at him.

An 'Ouch' sounded in the blond's mind.

Yes, most likely it wasn't just him who made it look worse than it was.

He forced himself to swallow and nod, which led Nami to move his head in the direction of the door, which clearly said "Follow me"

Sanji simply did so, following the navigator as she headed for another part of the ship.

The aquarium.

Another bad sign.

Everyone knew that that part of the ship was his second favorite after the kitchen , as the boy ended up mentally diving himself in the nuances of the water and non-stop watching the fish, letting his imagination wander, his body relaxing a little.  
  


Immediately his mind went to rework the scene of the exact moment when he had kicked Luffy at Whole Cake Island, under Nami's terrified eyes.

His stomach bent over, making a flip.

Here it was again.

Nausea.

Disgusting taste of vomit.

He swallowed it, closing his eyelids and pulling from his cigarette, inhaling and exhaling.

He threw his nervousness on one side of his head, shifting his thoughts to the color of the ship's wood and how the veins of the boards were more or less evident, appearing almost like swirls or shapes.

One looked almost like a stain, looked at it and stared at it for a long time.

A stupid distraction, but still a distraction ... Although destined to end at the very moment when it crossed the threshold, entering the aquarium room.

Beautiful water slightly rippled by the movements of the tails and fins, green algae that rose up, hinting at the inattentive rocking and lacking any kind of rhythm, they attracted his full gaze.

Sanji already felt his attention swarming, dispersing.

He had no idea why, but it hadn't been in this part of the ship for months.

Perhaps because he thought he didn't deserve to enter it?

It could be.

Perhaps because he still felt too dirty and the perfection of that visual made him feel too much?

It also could be.

Both?

Definitely.

Just when they were both inside, Nami gently patted the bench, asking him to sit up.

The blond did it, sensing his nervousness skyrocketing, so much so that he barely breathed decently: he wouldn't be surprised if he'd suffocated himself with cigarette's smoke.

<< Tell me, Sanji ~ kun. >> the navigator started, putting one of her hands on his shoulder, giving him some delicate pat << Me and the others... We are your Nakama, aren't we? >>

Sanji assumed a somewhat confused expression from the question, looking at the girl, perplexed.

<< Yes >> he answered anyway, occasionally blinking.

<< And the Sunny is like our home, isn't it? >> Nami added again, still smiling, not letting him know what she was thinking.

The cook was already speachless, sweating cold, wondering if maybe those almost rhetorical questions would lead to something else, to another much heavier one, to an another that he wasn't sure he wanted to give a voice to.

<< Yes >> he said again, his voice twitching a little, his hands going back into his pockets to tighten the fabric.

<< So it is as if we were a family ... And one of the family does everything for the other components of it, right? >>

This time Sanji just nodded.

<< Would you do something if I asked you to? >>

<< Of course, Nami ~ swan. I would do anything for you >>

<< And you would do something if the others asked you? >>

There was no tone of malice in those words; Sanji really couldn't understand where the girl was going to go ... And that scared him. It really did.

<< I... I don't see why I wouldn't have to >> he said, trying not to stutter or to show the anxiety that was stirring in his veins instead of blood.  
  
  
  


<< Perfect. >> Nami pushed her hair back a little. << Then you will allow your nakama to let you have a vacation. >>

<< Ah ... >> the cook, for a moment, could not connect what the navigator had said, a frown on his face, then the sentence seemed to light up in his head and he realized it in all of its meaning, so that his eyes opened wide, staring at Nami as if he had seen a ghost.

<< Wait, what? >>

His voice didn't get an higher pitch. Nope. It didn't.

<< A holiday. >> The redhead continued, with a satisfied expression that said a lot about the assurance of this sentence.

<< You will take a break from anything. You will let us do what you usually only ever do for us. You always spoil us, now, at least for a while, leave us the task of giving you the change. No cooking, no dishes to wash, no watch, no washing of clothes. Your only job is to relax >>

<< B-but ... N-Nami ~ san, I don't think ... >>

<< ... That you need it? Oh, I believe so. We all believe so. And we've already decided >>

Sanji found himself literally speechless for the second time of the day, looking for something to argue, a phrase like any other to erase that sudden scenario that seemed totally wrong and too strange to even be partly plausible.

In exchange, he only managed to hold on to that bit that the navigator had mentioned without specifying its duration.

<< Vacation... how many days? >> he asked therefore, swallowing with difficulty.

<< Two weeks >>

Two weeks.

It seemed an infinite time for the blonde.

How was he supposed to do, all those days?

If the kitchen was one of the only things that distracted him from his thoughts, in those days he wouldn't even have been able to have it, so he simply feared that he would explode, anything but a period of relaxation.

He would have eaten himself internally, corroded his own mind to the point of no return.

<< Are ... Are you sure? >> he said in a whisper, not even realizing how his voice had abruptly subsided, almost hiding in his own throat.

The navigator stroked his shoulder fondly << More than sure. You need it. Consider it as time to discover hobbies, have some fun or to ... clear up some question marks >> Nami winked at him.

Sanji immediately opened and closed his mouth, sighing and scratching his head, looking at the young woman as she grabbed his hand and held it briefly in hers, as if to reassure him of any disturbance.

The cook limited himself therefore to hinting at a smile, initially drawn and a little tense, but which became more realistic every second a little more.

<< All right. I don't think I can choose, in any case, so if you really want ... I will accept this vacation >>  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally I'm here OwO
> 
> If you have to suggest - request scenarios for the 'two week break', go ahead
> 
> I already have some, but if you propose them, I will be happy to try to satisfy you: 3
> 
> Small thing. 
> 
> I decided that, yes, this story will be mainly pov. Sanji -- obv? -- but obviously some pov.Zoro will be there ... And in the end, if you will, I will also put his versions of certain chapters.
> 
> Like, are you interested in his view of Chapter 3? You ask, it will be done: D
> 
> P.S
> 
> I'll put Sanji's interactions with everyone in the crew. Because every mugiwara deserves lovehhh
> 
> P.p.s
> 
> I really hope Carrot becomes a nakama too! In my opinion it will be so, I even have theories ... Then I will calculate it as such : 'D


	8. Chapter eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another night of bad Dreams
> 
> Or
> 
> Niji Is the worst dickhead . But we only started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Attention: in the Second (of three ) part of this chapter, there are explicit, scurrilous and rough terms. If You Don't want ti read that, skip to the italic.

Once he was out of the aquarium, Sanji headed for the kitchen, a frown on his face.  
He still couldn't quite accept and truly believe that the kitchen would no longer be his for a total of two weeks.  
He only could cook that night, then ... Fourteen days of nothing.  
Three hundred and thirty-six hours of probable constant 'what the hell I should do' and of a clear and blatant uselessness.  
At times he regretted to have not given a negative answer to this request, but he knew very well that... after the navigator's initial inquiring questions, answering something that was not a 'yes' simply would have meant to humiliate himself and, even more, disappoint Nami.

He wouldn't have liked neither of the two things, especially the second one: after all, his ego was already quite destroyed by itself, while the beautiful and Amazing Red haired girl, well ... Of course, she deserved attention, praise and affection.  
Sanji would have really done everything for her, simply because she deserved it ... So he didn't want to destroy her expectations.  
He tapped the tip of his shoe against the floor with nervousness, making a slight grimace and shaking his head.  
He had at least that evening.  
He would have overworked himself as much as possible, making every kind of dishes: nobody could say anithing about that.  
He reached the stove with a convinced expression, litting them up, quickly pulling up the sleeves of his shirt and he started to work.

*

 _< < __Did_ _you really_ _think_ _we were_ _done_ _,_ _didn't_ _You? >> Niji said_ _with_ _the_ _usual_ _cruel_ _smile, once after the other two brothers_ _left_ _the_ _room_ _,_ _observing_ _the_ _blond_ _with_ _his_ _cold_ _eyes._  
_Sanji_ _couldn't_ _help_ _wincing_ _,_ _swallowing_ _and feeling_ _his_ _breath_ _hurrying_ _to_ _every_ _shiver_ _that_ _ran_ _down on_ _his_ _back,_ _clinging_ _into_ _his_ _skin._  
_< < Maybe, at this Moment, __Ichiji_ _and Yonji, yes._ _Maybe_ _they_ _don't_ _need_ _anything more. For me, instead ... Nah. >>_  
_A break._  
_A_ _long_ _pause in which the minor of the two_ _found_ _himself_ _staring_ _at the_ _twin_ _with_ _the_ _eyes_ _of someone who_ _had_ _just_ _witnessed_ _the_ _sight_ _of a ghost._  
_< < We've just __started_ _, really >> Niji __added_ _,_ _licking_ _his_ _lips_ _._  
_< < After all, a __whore_ _like you can't be_ _tired_ _after a little game. You need_ _to_ _give_ _me_ _more >>_ _he_ _almost_ _purred_ _._

 _The_ _blond_ _stiffened_ _to_ _the feeling of the_ _twin's_ _hands_ _palpating_ _his_ _buttocks_ _,_ _separating_ _them again_ _with_ _his_ _rough_ _fingers_ _,_ _slipping_ _one of them into the_ _orifice_ _and_ _sliding_ _the white_ _liquid_ _down, which_ _dripped_ _hot_ _along_ _his_ _long_ _legs_ _,_ _tearing_ _out a_ _shiver_ _from him._  
_Everything_ _in Sanji's head_ _seemed_ _to be_ _gone_ _,_ _but_ _his_ _body was so damn sensitive._  
_As he felt Niji's finger_ _move_ _in_ _his_ _butt_ _, Sanji made a sound similar to a_ _squeak_ _,_ _something_ _that_ _amused_ _the blue, probably,_ _because_ _he simply bursted into a big_ _laughter_ _._  
_The_ _younger_ _twin_ _blushed_ _with_ _frustration_ _,_ _gritting_ _his_ _teeth_ _,_ _ignoring_ _the_ _burning_ _of_ _his_ _eyes_ _that_ _seemed_ _to want to_ _throw_ _tears of_ _shame_ _out._  
_< < What was that? >> he __asked_ _to_ _him_ _,_ _still_ _laughing_ _so much, too much,_ _enough_ _to_ _make_ _Sanji_ _want_ _to be ten feet under the_ _ground_ _,_ _blushing_ _even more._  
_Jeez_ _, he_ _hated_ _that_ _piece of_ _shit_ _so_ _badly_ _, and he_ _hated_ _the_ _power_ _he_ _had_ _on_ _him_ _, on_ _his_ _body._

 _< < I want to __hear_ _it again, little bitch. >> Niji __said_ _once after he_ _managed_ _to stop_ _laughing_ _ << Do It again. Come on >>_  
_< < G-go fuck __yourself_ _you_ _bas_ _... Ah! >> the __blond_ _moaned_ _again,_ _sensing_ _the second finger entering him,_ _then_ _pushing_ _inside_ _him at a very_ _fast_ _pace._  
_He_ _could_ _feel_ _him_ _proceeding_ _on the_ _movements_ _,_ _making_ _him_ _feel_ _a_ _sudden_ _heat_ _,_ _with_ _strange_ _pangs_ _in_ _his_ _belly_ _and ..._ _Was_ _that_ _..._ _Pleasure_ _?_  
_Was_ _it_ _really_ _pleasure_ _?_  
_Was it?_  
_"No... It_ _can't_ _be..."_  
_He_ _could_ _feel_ _the_ _weird_ _excitment flowing into him,_ _rising_ _and_ _stirring_ _in_ _his_ _body like_ _his_ _own blood,_ _snatching_ _out of him what he wanted to hold back, as he_ _feared_ _to_ _let_ _come out_ _something_ _similar of what_ _had_ _previously_ _escaped_ _him._  
_< < It __seems_ _to me that you are_ _appreciating_ _this ... You are_ _wet_ _, fucking lil' slut >> the __twin_ _grinned_ _,_ _making_ _the other boy_ _feel_ _the need to kick him in_ _his_ _mouth,_ _perhaps_ _because of the_ _ass_ _-face he was_ _proposing_ _._  
_Niji_ _seemed_ _even more_ _amused_ _by the_ _other's_ _indignation_ _, who_ _had_ _resumed_ _\- apparently -_ _trying_ _to fight even a little,_ _repeating_ _and_ _pushing_ _himself_ _more and more_ _deeply_ _in_ _response_ _to delete_ _his_ _attempts_ _at_ _their_ _start,_ _adding_ _even a_ _third_ _phalanx_ _,_ _watching_ _then_ _the_ _blond_ _member_ _get_ _up a little more_ _with_ _every_ _movement_ _his_ _hand_ _made._

 _Sanji_ _could_ _feel_ _it_ _throbbing_ _,_ _suddenly_ _hard._  
_"No. No. It is_ _not_ _true_ _... It_ _cannot_ _be ... I don't_ _want_ _this! I don't like_ _it_ _!_ _Why_ _?!"_  
_< < You really like it __then_ _, Sanji >>_  
_The_ _tone_ _of_ _scorn_ _and_ _malice_ _in_ _those_ _five_ _letters_ _..._ _Accompanied_ _by the_ _knoweledge_ _that he_ _had_ _responded_ _to the_ _violence_ _as if he was_ _appreciating_ _it_ _for_ _real, as if he_ _accepted_ _it and wanted it in_ _his_ _turn_ _..._

 _It_ _disgusted_ _him._  
_It_ _disgusted_ _him_ _so_ _damn_ _much._  
_He was so_ _disgusted_ _by_ _himself_ _, by_ _his_ _own_ _stupid_ _body._  
_With_ _what was happening to_ _him_ _... He, at_ _least_ _hoped_ _to_ _resist_ _, to_ _keep_ _away_ _something_ _about_ _himself_ _, because_ _if_ _It was really happening,_ _then_ _he_ _needed_ _to_ _make_ _a some_ _kind_ _of a line to_ _protect_ _his_ _mind_ _,_ _but_ _instead_ _his_ _own body was_ _firing_ _it_ _with_ _its_ _acceptance_ _._  
_He was so_ _disgusted_ _that he_ _returned_ _to the_ _previous_ _apathy_ _,_ _with_ _the desire to be able to cover_ _his_ _face_ _with_ _his_ _hands_ _,_ _trying_ _to hide the tears that now_ _slipped_ _along_ _his_ _cheekbones_ _._  
_These_ _, probably, were really_ _pleasing_ _Niji,_ _but_ _he was still not truly_ _satisfied_ _, apparently ... Because he_ _took_ _his_ _face_ _between_ _his_ _unoccupied_ _hand_ _,_ _touching_ _Sanji's_ _lips_ _,_ _tugging_ _and_ _squeezing_ _the blonde_ _cheeks_ _with_ _such_ _a force to make them_ _become_ _purple_ _,_ _with_ _the_ _marks_ _of_ _his_ _nails_ _clearly_ _visible_ _,_ _then_ _placing_ _his_ _mouth on Sanji's,_ _kissing_ _him_ _, biting_ _him_ _until_ _his_ _lips_ _bled_ _... and_ _devouring_ _them as if_ _they_ _were_ _his_ _property_ _, as if he really knew ..._  
_As if he knew that this was Sanji's first_ _kiss_ _and that, apparently, the blonde_ _twin_ _would_ _never be able to forget it, that he_ _would_ _be_ _eternally_ _marked_ _by it._  
_Releasing_ _his_ _face, he_ _began_ _to_ _move_ _his_ _hand_ _again in the minor_ _boy's_ _orifice_ _-_ _who_ _, by now,_ _had_ _four_ _fingers_ _inside_ _, all pressing_ _with_ _even more rude_ _violence_ _:_ _they_ _pushed_ _forward_ _and_ _tear_ _off_ _unwanted_ _sound by_ _his_ _mouth, like_ _everything_ _else it was happening on him - and the second, which_ _had_ _clung_ _to_ _his_ _erection_ _,_ _amusing_ _himself_ _by_ _making_ _the boy_ _shudder_ _,_ _wince_ _,_ _moan_ _,_ _tremble_ _convulsively_ _and cry._  
_It_ _seemed_ _to Niji to_ _have_ _back the_ _old_ _days_ _..._ _Only_ _with_ _a little_ _difference_ _... it_ _had_ _never_ _been_ _so much_ _fun_ _for him._  
_Not_ _like_ _this._  
_He_ _had_ _always_ _liked_ _it, to_ _see_ _him_ _sick_ _and hurt, to watch him look for_ _something_ _to hold on to_ _survive_ _and to find a some kind of_ _meaning_ _for_ _his_ _useless_ _and fragile_ _existence_ _,_ _but_ _this ... This was_ _above_ _every_ _level_ _._

 _It was a_ _unique_ _view; the_ _shame_ _in_ _that_ _gaze_ _, more blue_ _than_ _a sky,_ _previously_ _so_ _determined_ _,_ _then_ _now so_ _destroyed_ _as to_ _barely_ _be a_ _skeleton_ _of what it_ _had_ _been_ _before, only_ _leaving_ _it_ _to the memories._  
_Such_ _a view ... It was_ _beyond_ _imagination_ _, he_ _would_ _never have_ _been_ _able to_ _summon_ _it._  
_< < Come on, you little bitch. Come for me. I will __allow_ _you one cumm_ _._ _Only_ _one. You_ _should_ _already be grateful, you_ _know_ _. Eh, Sanji >>_  
_The_ _blond_ _would_ _not have wanted to give him_ _satisfaction_ _, the_ _proud_ _part_ _of_ _himself_ _pressed_ _in a corner of_ _his_ _head,_ _needing_ _to be_ _noticed_ _and_ _followed_ _to_ _prevent_ _his_ _body from_ _accepting_ _those_ _touches_ _again,_ _knowing_ _perfectly_ _that it_ _would_ _not end_ _there_ _at all ... And that_ _cumming_ _in this_ _way_ _was ... Fucking_ _shameful_ _._  
_Something_ _that_ _, if he_ _could_ _, he_ _would_ _have_ _totally_ _denied_ _,_ _but_ _his_ _system_ _seemed_ _to want to_ _humiliate_ _him, in_ _fact_ _the_ _pleasure_ _exploded_ _in_ _streams_ _,_ _splashing_ _on the_ _surface_ _of the_ _bed_ _, drop by drop,_ _accompanied_ _by_ _his_ _tears and_ _frustration_ _._  
_This_ _feeling was always_ _there_ _,_ _mixed_ _with_ _a big dose of_ _apathism_ _with_ _which_ _his_ _brain still_ _tried_ _in_ _vain_ _to_ _defend_ _itself,_ _knowing_ _that if he_ _listened_ _to Niji's_ _words_ _too much, he_ _would_ _return_ _to_ _believe_ _in them, to_ _absorb_ _every_ _insult_ _,_ _every_ _comment_ _made by_ _that_ _fucking_ _asshole_ _._  
_After all,_ _however_ _, he_ _didn't_ _deny_ _them._  
_He_ _had_ _never_ _denied_ _them, not as a_ _child_ _, not at this moment,_ _especially_ _because of_ _his_ _own_ _ridicolous_ _and inappropriate_ _reactions_ _, so... He_ _knew_ _._  
_He knew that he_ _had_ _already lost the battle._  
_He lost it_ _from_ _the fucking start,_ _damn_ _it._

_*_

<< Cook >>

The blond winced at the feeling of being shaken vehemently, pulling himself up from the hammock quickly, so quickly that, once he sat up, he could feel his head spinning for a long series of seconds, only flicking his gaze where there was the person who , so abruptly, had chased him out of his dream - or nightmare. Yes, nightmare sounded really better -.  
Crossing those gray eyes for the umpteenth time, Sanji didn't know exactly how he should have felt.  
A part of him wanted to protest, to kick him, give him a middle finger and then go back to sleep.  
Protest because, of course the swordsman had the same delicacy as a damn elephant on waking him up.  
Protest because he had no idea about what the hell the mosshead was doing at that time of the night - whatever it was - and why he decided to wake him, completely out of nowhere.

But the other part of him was so grateful to Zoro for what he did.  
The reasons why he was, well, they were pretty obvious, but he wouldn't give them a voice.  
He did not even have time to open his mouth to ask what the Marimo wanted exactly, because the damn swordsman speaked for him - and before him -.  
<< Give me some space >> he asserted, in a slightly hoarse voice and a tone that didn't accept replies.

If Sanji hadn't been mentally and physically in need of rest, he probably would have protested, probably screaming out loud to that fucking plant to fuck off, he told himself, but at that exactly moment he didn't.  
He did not resist: he allowed the swordsman to lie down near to him in his hammock - he had to be very sick, perhaps it was because of the nightmare he had just had - and to wrap him around with an arm to bring him closer.  
Sanji really wanted to protest, dammit, he wanted to try to say that for how much a furnace Zoro was, he would end up sweating seven shirts with his suffocating heat, also because they were far from a winter island and, that night, it wasn't that he was particularly cold there.  
He wanted to tell to the seaweed that he stank and to take a shower, to sleep in his own hammock, to stop posing in such a strange way because at times he ended with a freaking heart attack because of his mood swings - that he said to himself that he wouldn't have accepted anymore not even ten hours ago - to leave him in peace and that if he probably would not have been able to shut his eyes anymore it was the damn stupid idiot plant's fault ... But ...  
Fuck, his throat was dry like a desert.  
And maybe Zoro wasn't really the hot one.  
Yes, he was, but not like that!  
It was him who felt warm on all his face.  
Too hot on hia face, with a decidedly too rapid heartbeat and a blank mind, completely shut down.  
Only after about ten minutes he managed to take a little bit of decent oxygen, calming his heated nerves and sighing out loud, telling himself, before falling asleep, that the next day, at that cabbage head, he would have made some question.  
Many, many questions.


End file.
